The flashback structure isn't wholly satisfying, and the climax leaves an abundance of questions, so much so that the movie might have benefited either from taking the time to further flesh those revelations out or stripping them down.
Women finally wise up and take control at the very end of the story, and that is supposed to make up for all the voyeurism and passivity that goes before. I resent having to suffer through all that nonsense for such a brief payoff at the end.
Playing the troubled Rachel, whose trek toward the truth is agonizingly slow, could not have been easy. It certainly doesn't make [Blunt] look glamorous. But it does show what it takes to become an A-level movie star.
Where The Girl on the Train distinguishes itself, though, is in its forthright presentation. With unbearably over-the-top performances and direction, in addition to an unfocused purpose underlying the story itself, it is an almost unwatchable mess.
Tate Taylor's new adaptation of The Girl on the Train takes the worst parts of the novel (excruciating dialogue, paper-thin plotting, ludicrous twists) and amplifies them.
While it's not a great movie, I found it absorbing for the most part, an intriguing use of the unreliable narrator (which has been over-used in the past few years), gorgeous photography and a fine script by Erin Cressida Wilson.
